Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Denial Ain’t Just a River

For all intents and purposes, it’s Spring. But some I know are pretending they didn’t get the memo. Remember the Pyxis arachnoides brygooi from a few weeks ago? Their lights are on, the heat has been turned up. It’s time for wakey-wakey. I get a few subtle hints they’re not  quite ready.


Some of them are dug in more deeply now that they were a few months ago, like they’re trying to hit some kind of snooze bar. Click to enlarge.

And then there’s my favorite.  Cracks me right up!

Yeah, that's lunch to the right of her. She'd rather sleep than eat. I know the feeling, don't you? And those are some for serious sand piles! She was in a hurry!

Yeah, that’s lunch to the right of her. She’d rather sleep than eat. I know the feeling, don’t you? And those are some for serious sand piles! She was in a hurry to get back to bed!

Happy tortoise day!

Death to the Gamer Bird

I’m tired. Sleep eludes me for several reasons. For starters, Phoebe, my sweet PBGV, has lost her ever-loving mind. She’s going through yet another false pregnancy and spends most of her time in mourning because she believes she has misplaced her non-existent children. She’s willing to adopt, outside her species even. but the cats are having none of it. Though their rejection cuts her deep, she’s not willing to give up. How many times does someone have to pee in your bed before you realize you don’t belong together? I draw the line at one, but Phoebe is a forgiving desperate soul. Two weeks ago, she was a normal dog. Anyone rising before 7:30am  might qualify for a half-hearted tail wag. From her spot on the couch. Now she’s up all night digging a bed for her babies and despairing of ever having a four-legged lover. Spay your pets, people. Spay them.

It is a sad, dark world without the babies. Even if they are imaginary. Especially if they are imaginary. Won't someone show a Phoebe some love?

Another obstacle to my shut-eye is the heat. The temperature outside is only in the 50s, which is just about perfect for opening the windows and letting the breeze blow. The only trouble with this plan is that our neighbor apparently has hot flashes. The hormonal state of another being doesn’t typically register on my radar unless they are attempting to nurse their squeaky hamburger in my living room. Or if their air conditioner sounds like a Boeing 747 and never stops running. I’m almost looking forward to weather hot enough to turn on my own AC so that I don’t have to listen to hers!

But the number one turd on my poop parade this morning was one of God’s own wild creatures. No, not Squish, but thanks for asking. I’m talking about a bird. I’ll say straight up that I am not a bird person. I can identify all the frogs in my area by call alone, but I wouldn’t know a pigeon from a partridge, so please don’t ask me what kind of bird it was. I don’t know. I don’t care. I just want it to shut up! 

It started about 5:45am, and it has a fairly complex call that I might find moderately interesting at any time after my first cup quart of coffee. The first part of its call is a “Yoo-hoo!” pitch, followed up by an echoing trill I would normally associate with Frogger making it to his lily pad on an Atari 2600. Over and over and over and over.

I’m pretty sure this is how species go extinct. The stupid bird is doing a great job of advertising its location, but the incessant nature of its call is leading this normally even-keeled animal-loving individual to wonder how said stupid-bird would taste with ketchup. And a side of rice. And maybe some steamed broccoli. I will let you know tomorrow.

To Sleep, Perchance…

What are you looking at? Boppies aren't just for babies.


I lie very still trying not to move. I don’t want to break the illusion that I am sound asleep. I feel eyes boring into me, watching the rhythm of my breathing, waiting for the sign that I am awake. It’s not the kids. Their sense of self preservation tells them not to rouse their napping mother. There’s only one with the intestinal fortitude to poke a sleeping dragon. It’s the cat, curled tightly beside me, hopeful.

I open one eye, and she greets me with a little chirp that is half-purr, half-meow, all hopeful. I close my eye  and remain very still. She is onto me, however. After a moment or two, I can’t take the pressure and open my eyes. Again the friendly little greeting, but she doesn’t yet leave her post. I make eye contact. That’s all the invitation she needs. She is in my face in the blink of a sleepy eye. I feel her Friskies-breath as she bumps my chin. Impatiently she curls her head under my hand. “Pet me!” she says clearly. “Pet me NOW!” How can I resist?

She’s an ancient animal, a relic from the beginning of our marriage, our first baby. The little bag of bones, all eyeballs and distended belly, that followed us out of the woods, crying hopefully “Please don’t leave me!” The  waif who bit me in her haste to get to the proffered food and sent us into rabies quarantine. She was my only company that first long year when my husband worked residential shifts two hours away, returning home every 3 days if we were lucky. What adventures we have had!

Adore me

The old girl senses my weakness and begins the purr and pace routine that ensures that every one of her  itchy spots receive attention. If I flag, she’s more than willing to nudge my hand, to remind me what I was put here for.

I think of all the water that has passed under my bridge in the years since this cat found us. 7 moves in 2 different states, college graduation, three kids, two other cats (for which she has never forgiven us completely), reptiles too numerous to count, several dogs, all of whom learned their place within the first 24 hours. She has forever been my nap-buddy, quick to curl up on my chest as a kitten, or beside me when she grew too big. I can’t bear to think about the day when I wake up without her. She has always been there. I wish she always could be.

Here's to many more years together, precious one

Nearly Wordless Wednesday 11/30

Hello, Back of Couch. Take a memo.

It has been a few weeks since Daylight Saving time kicked in, and I have finally managed to reset all of the clocks in the house. Yes, it did take us this long. Thank you for asking. I am now taking suggestions on resetting the 16-year-old cat. She has a standing appointment with the living room couch upstairs at 5:45am, but something has gone awry, as she now appears to be set for Greenwich Mean Time. I seem to have misplaced the instruction manual for the cat-clock. Here’s what I have learned the hard way.

1) Cat-clocks do not come with snooze buttons.

2) Cat-clocks do come equipped with claws, therefore a search for a snooze button is inadvisable.

3) Cat-clocks are unbelievably loud and persistent at 1:30am. And 2am. And 4:30am.

4) If anyone in the entire house wants to sleep, the cat-clock must be allowed to win.